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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030443">sunburnt sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuijing/pseuds/shuijing'>shuijing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, lots of shit about the Big Scary Future, skateboards and bikes as a metaphor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:15:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuijing/pseuds/shuijing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The feeling of the rear seat of Minho's bike underneath his palm is so familiar Jisung is surprised he hasn’t carved grooves in the shape of his fingertips into the metal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sunburnt sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this was originally an idea i had for the <a href="https://twitter.com/minsungseason">colourful autumn fanworks challenge</a> (check it out if you haven't, lots of great minsung fics in there) but the timeline unfortunately didn't match up for me, so i almost forgot about it until i saw <a href="https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSqGMSWJ/">this tiktok</a> and decided to revive it, with some bare minimum skateboarding thrown in. enjoy!</p><p>there’s one mention of underage drinking in case that makes anyone uncomfortable</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is how it goes: Jisung on his skateboard, hand curled around the back of Minho's bicycle, whizzing down the empty roads as the wind tousles their hair. That's the way it's always been, since Jisung was ten and got his first board, and Minho picked him up at dawn so that they'd make it in time for school, so he doesn't even hesitate when he sees Minho coming down the hill on his bike, much nicer than the one he had when he was twelve.</p><p>"Hyung!" He calls, sloppily and hastily fastening the laces on his left shoe. He grabs his skateboard, drops it where the driveway of his house meets the pavement of the road and hops on, pushing off with his foot and skating over to Minho. The older boy slows as he approaches the house, but doesn't stop completely, trusting Jisung to catch up.</p><p>"Minho-hyung," he says from behind the bike. "Can I hitch a ride to town? I'm craving ice cream bungeoppang."</p><p>"Can you?" Minho retorts. "Have you ever asked before?" But he shoots a grin over his shoulder, his face dappled with the sunlight pouring through the gaps in the foliage above them, so Jisung knows he means <i>yes.</i> His fingers find purchase around the metal of the bike's rear seat, so familiar Jisung is surprised he doesn't feel grooves in the shape of his fingertips.</p><p>They travel in comfortable silence until the trees become more sparse, and the small path that leads up to Jisung's house at the bottom of the hill, and Minho's house a little higher up, connects with the main road, its black body lazily winding around the lake. The wheels of Jisung's skateboard go <i>click-click</i> as they roll over a bump in the tar, and then they're on the main road. It's empty of cars, but it usually is. Minho and Jisung have spent many vacation days racing each other up and down this road, without any fear of getting run over.</p><p>"My eomma told me you got accepted into KU," Jisung says, looking away from the ocean-broad expanse of Minho's back to stare out across the lake. The waves roll over each other, slow and sweet and methodical, and the shimmer of the sun catches on their edges. When he was really young, this lake used to look like the sea to him, wide and unforgiving. After seventeen years of swimming in it in the summer and daring his friends to go for a dip in the winter, it looks smaller. It's not so scary when he can see the town on the other shore, a collection of houses and buildings in all shapes and colours, cobbled together.</p><p>He was sitting at the kitchen table when his mother told him, her back facing him as she stirred the pot of kimchijjigae on the stove. He almost didn’t hear her, but he made out ‘Minho’ and ‘university’ and hurriedly took off his headphones. She turned around to nag at him when he asked her to repeat, but she said it again anyway. <i>Our Minho-yah got into Korea University!</i> For a second, he contemplated running up the hill and barging in through Minho’s back door, telling him congratulations in person, but he hadn't done that since middle school, and anyway he was supposed to hang out with his classmates in half an hour. He and Minho didn’t really text, either, so he settled on mentioning it when they met again.</p><p>"I figured. My eomma was on the phone bragging to everyone for over an hour." Jisung can hear the affectionate eye-roll in Minho's voice.</p><p>"What are you gonna study?" Jisung asks. "Oh, congratulations," he adds belatedly.</p><p>Minho waves it off. Pleasantries, when you two grew up together, are more hot air than necessity. "Computer science, maybe," he shrugs. "Something related to computers, definitely. And you, Jisung?" He says suddenly, looking back and taking a hand off the handlebars to push his fringe out of his face. "You gonna study in Seoul?"</p><p>Jisung makes a noncommittal noise. He and Minho are sometimes almost the same person, but they're also so different. Everyone knew, from the moment Minho ranked first in his freshman year of high school, that he wasn't going to stay in their small town, boxed in by hills and a half-hour's drive away from any major road. He's going places, and Seoul is just his first stop. Jisung, though. He likes skateboarding and writing lyrics in his battered journal and fucking around with his friends by the lakeside, and he doesn't know if he even wants to leave this town. He'll deal with the future when it comes.</p><p>Luckily, Minho can read him as well as any line of code, and he leaves it be. They ride up to a break in the forest by the side of the road, a worn dirt path cast in the shadows of the tall trees, and Minho laughs as he points at it. "Hey, remember when we went up to the shrine?"</p><p>"Oh, shut the fuck up," Jisung scowls, trying to suppress a shudder as they pass it. Even in the daytime, the memory is enough to creep him out. It had been late one summer night, and Hyunjin, one of the boys who lives in town, had dared them to go up to the old shrine and steal some of the offerings. Jisung had clung to Minho's arm as they trekked up the path, the complete silence more eerie than any wind in the leaves could be. In the end, they hadn't had anything to show for their efforts, because Jisung had heard a sound behind them when they were reaching for the offerings, and, convinced it was the ghosts of ancestors past come to punish them for stealing, screamed and ran back down, dragging a laughing Minho with him. Minho said he saw an owl land in the branches near them, but Jisung maintained that it had been the supernatural, even when the other boys teased him for being a chicken.</p><p>"It was cute!" Minho insists. "You had that bowl cut back in middle school, and with your wide eyes and the scared look on your face, you looked so cute."</p><p>"It was so dark, how would you know if I looked cute," Jisung huffs, offended at being reminded of his awful haircut.</p><p>"I could tell," Minho says. "I don't have to look to know."</p><p>The rumbling of an engine comes up behind them, and Minho veers left to let the truck pass. Mr Min nods at them from the driver's seat, his arm draped over the edge of the open window, the cigarette between his fingers wafting smoke. They greet him politely, not quite grown out of their childhood fear of him. In the fall, after classes were over and everyone had gotten sick of playing at the lake, they'd take turns to steal persimmons off the trees on his property, and there was always the possibility of getting caught prickling at the back of their necks. Jisung swears that the old man doesn't look any older than he did all those years ago.</p><p>They pass the abandoned pier, barely anything more than a handful of rotting wooden planks held together by rusting nails. There are no kids in the water now, but during the short summer break, the elementary schoolers will bring their fishing nets with bright green handles, crowding around the shallows and catching shrimp. There wasn't much to do except release them afterwards, but catching the most shrimp always gave the lucky kid bragging rights, at least until they went home for dinner. Almost unconsciously, Jisung murmurs, "There won't be any shrimp for you to catch in Seoul."</p><p>"They have fishing cafes over there, actually," Minho tells him. "I should check them out, impress my classmates with my skills."</p><p>"You suck at fishing," Jisung shoots back. Two years ago, their dads had brought them, four fishing rods and a box of wriggling worms out on a boat to the middle of the lake. Jisung wasn't that much better at it, but at least he had caught one big enough for them to bring home for his mother to cook. Minho had almost capsized the boat, twice.</p><p>"As if the city kids will know the difference," Minho snorts. They share a smile, a stupid joke between two kids from a small town. Jisung hopes he'll still poke fun at those who grew up in cosmopolitan Seoul, when he comes home to visit between semesters.</p><p>From there, after taking the right in a fork in the road, it's not far to town. Houses start popping up, stray cats lazily napping on red-brick walls, cars passing them in the street. They wave at everyone they pass, almost get detoured by an auntie in their mothers' unofficial baduk club before Minho pedals them away with an apologetic smile. </p><p>To get to the Seos' convenience store, they have to ride around the town hall, which isn’t an administrative centre so much as a big building where every event of some importance is held. Weddings, graduation ceremonies, sports matches with the teams of high schools in neighbouring towns.</p><p>Jisung went to his first, and so far only, high school dance here. He borrowed an ill-fitting suit from his cousin, slicked his hair back in an imitation of a quiff, went date-less and hung out with his friends instead. It was nothing like the school dances he saw in American movies; the teacher chaperones, who were friends with his parents, cooed about how grown-up he was now, the food was the main attraction, and people mostly talked and took pictures instead of dancing. The only moment which felt remotely cinematic was this: him and Minho meeting eyes across the room, separated by a sea of students and Minho’s seniority, Minho raising his hand to wave, then his date raising herself up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, him laughing and turning away. It didn’t feel like a movie he wanted to be in. Being the side character couldn’t be a nice feeling.</p><p>And, more recently, he went to Minho’s high school graduation ceremony. He hadn’t ranked first, beaten by a girl Jisung heard is now already moved into her dorm at KAIST, but second was still an impressive feat. His mother had made him dress up for this, and so the collar of his button-up was slowly getting soaked in sweat as he watched Minho walk across the stage and receive his diploma. The second before he took his bow, he’d looked in Jisung’s general direction, and Jisung had let himself pretend he had looked directly at him, and clapped as loudly as he could, hoping Minho could hear him.</p><p>The wind starts picking up, bringing the crisp smell of the lake on its tail. It tussles Jisung's hair as it passes, leaves his flannel jacket flapping out behind him. They ride on the road right next to the water, the lapping of the waves against the shore serving as the soundtrack to their ride. The sky above them is a blue unlike any other shade, nearly cloudless, stretching on forever. Jisung lets the memories fall away, focuses on the sound of his skateboard over the road, the whiz of Minho's gears spinning, how he turns around when Jisung whoops, the cut of his razor grin. He wasn't looking at Jisung then, but he is now.</p><p>"I should have brought my speaker," Jisung says. "Today's weather is perfect. Has good jamming vibes."</p><p>"What, and get scolded for interrupting Jeongin's piano lesson when we ride past his house with the volume too loud again?" Minho snorts. </p><p>"That was more like light nagging, okay, Jeongin's eomma loves me too much to scold me," Jisung says, and it's not even a brag. Jeongin's mother does adore him. Jisung says it's because of his naturally lovable and charming nature. Jeongin says it's because of that one time when Jeongin was six and Jisung was seven and they were playing in the lake, and Jeongin cut the bottom of his foot on a rock, and Jisung piggybacked him all the way home while Jeongin wailed in his ear and Seungmin ran ahead to tell the adults.</p><p>They pass the Yang household right then, and Jisung to tempted to jump up and bang his hands against Jeongin's bedroom window to scare him shitless, but thinks better of it when he remembers he's still hanging onto Minho's bike. "I know what you were thinking of doing," Minho says without even turning around. "Leave the baby alone."</p><p>"I didn't do anything!" Jisung protests. "And the <i>baby</i> is starting high school this year, you know."</p><p>"Don't remind me please," Minho says. "Fuck, I feel old. Isn't he taller than you now?"</p><p>"<i>No,</i>" Jisung vehemently denies. "We're, like, the same height at most. Shut up. No way."</p><p>"It's not hard to be taller than you," Minho says, amused.</p><p>"Yah! As if <i>you're</i> vertically gifted!"</p><p>They jab at each other's heights, though Jisung doesn't have much material to work off of, because Minho can volley every comment back with a "But I'm taller than you," for the short stretch of distance remaining until they get to the Seos' convenience store. Minho turns in, away from the lake, and Jisung lets go of his bike and does an ollie over the short flight of stairs leading down to the side road. "Show-off!" Minho calls after him from where he's parking his bike, and Jisung just laughs at him, crossing the road and jumping off his board before he gets to the store's entrance. The sensor above the door plays a tinny, slightly off-tune melody as he goes in. It calls itself a convenience store, but really, this place has everything. He walks past the shelves of biscuits and toothpaste and bottled soda, to the freezer right at the back. He grabs one Samanco bungeoppang, the red plastic packaging crinkling under his fingers, hesitates, then grabs a mint chocolate ice cream for Minho, the kind that comes in a turquoise green cup.</p><p>Changbin is sitting behind the counter when he comes up to pay, scrolling through something on his phone, soaking in the warmth of the only heater in the store. As he opens the cash register, he asks, "Is it true that Minho-hyung got into KU?"</p><p>"Why don't you ask me yourself?" Minho says, coming up from behind Jisung and dumping a bunch of miscellaneous items on the counter. Two bottles of shampoo, a jar of strawberry jam, a packet of gum. Jisung hadn't heard him come in.</p><p>"So?" Changbin prods. "Did you?"</p><p>"Yeah," Minho says, his face breaking out into a smile.</p><p>"Punk, you could've just said yes earlier," Changbin says, but Minho's happiness is mirrored in his face, and he still gives him a congratulatory hit on the arm.</p><p>"Who are you calling punk? I'm older than you!" Minho hits him back, significantly harder.</p><p>"<i>Ow,</i> okay, hyung, damn," Changbin says, rubbing the sore spot. "Well, maybe we can room together next year."</p><p>"Room together?" Jisung interrupts. "You're going to study in Seoul too?"</p><p>Changbin shrugs. "That's the plan, anyway. I'm not smart like hyung, I might not get in."</p><p>"Don't talk shit," Minho says, sharp in that straightforward way of his. "You'll get in. And yeah, we can room together."</p><p>Changbin and Minho exchange cash and more small talk, and then they're gathering their items in their arms, saying goodbye to Changbin, hearing the same tinny tune announce their leave. They cross the road, Minho bounds up the stairs to put his stuff in the basket of his bike, Jisung sits down on the steps with two melting ice creams in his hands, and the whole time he's thinking about Changbin and Minho rooming together in KU next year. He didn't even know Changbin wanted to study in Seoul. He stares at the skateboard under his feet, pushing it from side to side, fidgety. Is he the only one that isn't set on leaving?</p><p>Minho sits down next to him, makes a happy sound when he realises Jisung got ice cream for him too. They open the packaging and eat under the yawning blue sky. The cold burst of vanilla and red bean in Jisung's mouth tastes like his childhood. He tries not to get his hands sticky.</p><p>"What do you think living in Seoul will be like?" Jisung asks, when he's midway finished with his bungeoppang. </p><p>Minho hums as he puts a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. "Busier than here," he says, pulling the spoon out and tapping it against his bottom lip. "Not just because I'll be studying. I visited Seoul once, to see my cousins, remember, that summer when I was ten and gone for two weeks. Everyone always had somewhere to go. There wasn't any time to stop and just look out across the lake."</p><p>"There are no lakes in Seoul, hyung."</p><p>"Aren't you supposed to be a songwriter?" Minho gives him an unimpressed look. "I meant <i>metaphorically.</i> The lake of life, or something."</p><p>Jisung giggles at <i>the lake of life,</i> and Minho jabs him in the arm with the spoon, and Jisung yelps, <i>yah, that thing is sticky!</i> And they eat in silence for a few moments, until Minho says, softer than Jisung's ever heard him be, "You know you don't have to study in Seoul if you don't want to, right?"</p><p>"I know," Jisung says, crushing the packaging of his now-finished bungeoppang in his fist, feeling the action mirrored in the tightening of his throat. "But I don't know what I want."</p><p><i>I don't know what I want except this,</i> Jisung doesn't say. <i>The bluest sky and the smell of the lake around us. Knowing every street and the people who live in each house. The friends I share seventeen years of silly games and persimmons in autumn and laughter with. My hand around the back of your bike.</i></p><p>"Things have a way of working themselves out in the end," Minho says. "Even if you don't know what you want right now."</p><p>Jisung looks at him. "You always knew what you wanted, though. You knew and everyone knew."</p><p>Minho shrugs helplessly. "Okay, yeah, maybe so. But you'll be okay. Same as me, same as everyone else who knows or doesn't know."</p><p>He scrapes the last of his mint chocolate ice cream off the bottom of the cup. They go back up the stairs, throw their trash away, and start heading home. They take the back roads this time, the route that passes the school buildings. There are a few kids playing in the courtyard, and they wave hello as they whiz past. Through the gaps in between the houses, Jisung can see the lake, the flock of birds that circle it, cawing and chirping faintly.</p><p>It's faster this way, and soon they're leaving the town behind, the lake on their left and the forest on their right. As they pass the old pier again, Minho says, "You know, you could come visit me in Seoul. See if you like it."</p><p>"What, wouldn't you look lame in front of your uni friends? With a high schooler trailing behind you?" Jisung says, pretending like his heart didn't trip hearing those words. Him and Minho, exploring Seoul together. He's never seen the Han river; he'd always thought it would be cool to ride his skateboard along it.</p><p>"What are you talking about?" Minho snorts. "Who am I trying to impress?"</p><p>"I bet hyung is going to be super popular," Jisung insists. </p><p>"Oh yeah? You think I'll have a string of affairs?" Minho says, laughing. "You know I've never received a confession before, right?"</p><p>Jisung frowns. Is that a joke, or— "Did you forget about me?"</p><p>"<i>What?</i>" Minho whips around, eyes wide. "What are you saying?"</p><p>"I—" Jisung starts, then cuts himself off when he sees a movement at the corner of his eye. "Hyung, squirrel!"</p><p>Minho turns back in time to see the squirrel scurrying across the road, headed directly for the path of his bike. He curses, braking and yanking the handlebars to the side at the same time. Jisung forgets to let go.</p><p>The crash isn't pretty. Jisung groans, not wanting to get off the ground. His tailbone hurts like a <i>motherfucker.</i> Minho appears in his line of vision, hovering above him with concern etched all over his face. "You okay?"</p><p>"Fuck, my back hurts," Jisung says, closing his eyes and opening them again. "But I'll be fine. You?"</p><p>"Scraped my knees, but that's not important," Minho says impatiently. "What did you mean by that?"</p><p>"I confessed to you," Jisung says slowly. Minho's jaw slackens. "Remember? Pepero Day, two years ago? When you were sick. What—How could you not know this?"</p><p>Jisung had planned the confession two weeks in advance. He didn't want to do anything dramatic, like write a song (that came after, a teenage angst-ridden acoustic number that Jisung cringes to think about today), so he settled on a simple, classic Pepero confession. He was supposed to give it to him when they went to school together, as they did everyday, but Minho just happened to fall sick on that day, and Jisung had had to wait for his classes to be over, thinking about the box of almond chocolate Pepero in his bag the whole time, before skating home, leaving his board abandoned in his driveway and running up the hill. The Minho who answered the door had been obviously ill, face pale and eyes half-glazed. </p><p>"Happy Pepero Day, hyung," Jisung said, heart jumping wildly like a rabbit trapped in a box. "Here, some Pepero for you to eat when you're better. Read what it says on the box, okay?"</p><p>"'Kay. Thanks, Jisung-ah," Minho said, sniffling. "Go home before you catch it from me."</p><p>The next twenty-four hours left Jisung jumpy and spaced out at the same time, scrambling to grab his phone every time it lit up with a notification, only to be disappointed when it wasn't a message from Minho. The next time he saw Minho, the older boy didn't mention it at all, just cuffed the back of his head and offered to share his iced Americano. It was confusing, and discouraging, until Jisung figured that this was Minho's way of gently letting him down. He was always more about actions than words. He accepted it silently, though it was hard for fifteen-year-old Jisung to get over his first heartbreak (see: the angsty song). He did specify in his confession, that he wanted them to remain friends no matter what, and they were exactly that. As the weeks past, the heartache turned into an instinctual half-flinch he did every time he saw Minho, which he got better and better at swallowing down, until it was barely a blink. </p><p>Except, it seems, that Minho never knew he liked him at all. "Did you read the back of box?" Jisung asks.</p><p>A look of dawning horror crosses Minho's face. "I was supposed to read it?"</p><p>"Oh my God," Jisung says, letting his head fall back onto the ground with a <i>thunk.</i> He's shaped this new form of their friendship, cautious in a way that's only a little noticeable and with two feet of distance where there used to be less than an inch, around the thought that Minho had rejected him, and the whole time <i>Minho didn't know.</i> "I wrote a confession on the back of it. Hyung, it had Ryan on the packaging. I don't give Line Friends Pepero to just anyone."</p><p>"I threw it away after eating," Minho admits, and when Jisung groans again, he defends himself with, "Look, I was sick, okay, I was probably delirious from the meds when I answered the door. I literally have no memory of you telling me to read anything."</p><p>Jisung looks up at the sky, wishing to melt into the tar. "This is so embarrassing," he mutters.</p><p>"It's only embarrassing if you think it is," Minho says, which is something he often says, because he's shameless and thinks that everyone else should be too.</p><p>"What is not embarrassing about someone you like rejecting you two years late?" He shoots back.</p><p>"Like?" Minho immediately latches onto his slip of the tongue. "Present tense?"</p><p>Jisung pauses. Here's the thing about living in a small town: he grew up with and knows pretty much his entire dating pool. There was only one boy that he ever had a crush on, and even when the infatuation faded, something remained stuck, hooked on his ribs. There wasn't anyone to distract him, to unstuck it. Sometimes he'd still catch himself rendered breathless by the way Minho looked with ice cream on the corner of his mouth, or under the marigold glow of dusk, or on his bike riding down the hill they called home.</p><p>"It's nothing, I'll get over it for real when you go off to university—" Jisung says. That's the plan, anyways.</p><p>"I think," Minho cuts him off. "That I would have rejected you, two years ago." Nobody ever said Minho was anything but blunt. "But. I'm not rejecting you now."</p><p>The world stops spinning for a second. "What?" Jisung breathes.</p><p>"Can I kiss you?" Minho asks. Jisung can barely nod, eyes wide, still not quite believing this is happening. Just because he wanted bungeoppang. Minho reaches a hand up and cradles his jaw. As he leans in, Jisung thinks, dumbstruck, <i>How is he still so handsome up close?</i> And then Minho's lips are on his, and he thinks of nothing at all.</p><p>It's so short it could hardly count as a kiss. Jisung had his lips on Seungmin's for longer when, a month ago, they smuggled a bottle of soju down to the lakeside and Seungmin had been trying not to show how upset he still was over him and Hyunjin breaking up and Jisung was just bored and lonely, and they decided it would be a great idea to make out with no strings attached. Kissing Seungmin had been fun and exciting in that alcohol-blurred way, but kissing Minho feels right. The sky is blue above them, the trees whisper in the gentle breeze, and Minho kissing him is the greatest feeling in the world.</p><p>Minho pulls away after a few seconds-turned-eternity, and they just stare at each other, until Jisung remembers—</p><p>"Hyung, are you still bleeding?"</p><p>"Oh, Minho says, and looks behind to where his scraped knees are on the ground. "I think so."</p><p>"God, okay, time to get up," Jisung laughs, pulling himself up to a sitting position. He wriggles out from under Minho and stands up, offering his hand. After Minho is on his feet (and yes, his knees are covered in blood and dirt), they don't move, just grinning stupidly at each other.</p><p>"How are we going to do this?" Jisung asks. "You're leaving in, like, a week."</p><p>"Long-distance is a thing. We'll figure it out," Minho says, shrugging. Seeing Jisung's unconvinced look, he continues, "I really like you, okay? We can make this work. We'll be okay, same as everyone else."</p><p>Jisung just nods in response, turning away to hide his smile. He picks up his skateboard, and Minho gets on his bike, and Jisung grabs onto the back, like always.</p><p>The future stretches out in front of him, a wide and unforgiving sea. But it's not so scary when he can see Minho on the other shore. He might not know what he wants, but this. He knows he wants this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>can you tell i graduate high school in a year and yet i don't want to think or do anything about my future hahaaaaa</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/huanggeum">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/jingying">curiouscat</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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